The Flood and the Fall
by ilovecastiel18
Summary: As God is busy flooding the Earth, Crowley and Aziraphale are left stranded in a cave at the top of a mountain. Crowley starts getting flashbacks of his Fall. Later, after the near-Apocalypse, Aziraphale asks Crowley about his Fall, and what caused it. Aziraphale/Crowley at the end. Hurt/Comfort, angst, fluff. One-Shot. Rated T.


**Disclaimer: **Good Omens, along with its characters, locations, etc. are the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchet. If I owned the rights to it, I wouldn't still be desperate to meet the man that I absolutely ADORE: David Tennant.

**Summary: **As God is busy flooding the Earth, Crowley and Aziraphale are left stranded in a cave at the top of a mountain. Crowley starts getting flashbacks of his Fall. Later, after the near-Apocalypse, Aziraphale asks Crowley about his Fall, and what caused it. Aziraphale/Crowley at the end. Hurt/Comfort, angst, fluff. One-Shot. Rated T.

**A/N: **I just thought that the scene about the flood deserved more of an in-depth exploration. I figured that this was when Aziraphale started to notice that Crowley isn't all bad ("You can't kill kids!") I also wanted to explore it after the Apocalypse, when they can, in my opinion, actually express their feelings to one another. Please leave a review if you like it!

….

The Flood and the Fall

….

Mesopotamia, 3004 B.C.:

"_Hello, Aziraphale" Crowley sauntered up behind the angel, a small smile on his lips._

"_Crawly." Aziraphale stated._

"_So, giving the mortals a flaming sword, how'd that work out for you?" Crowley inquired, a smirk on his face._

"_The Almighty has never actually mentioned it again." Aziraphale answered cautiously._

"_Probably a good thing." Crowley concedes. "What's all this about? Build a big boat and fill it with a travelling zoo?"_

"_From what I hear, God's a bit tetchy. Wiping out the human race. Big storm." Aziraphale explained._

"_All of them?" Crowley questioned, eyebrows knitted together._

"_Just the locals." Aziraphale answered swiftly. "I don't believe the Almighty is upset with the Chinese. Or the Native Americans. Or the Australians."_

"_Yet." Crowley retorted._

"_And God's not actually going to wipe out _all_ the locals." Aziraphale continued, not registering Crowley's remark. "I mean, Noah up there. His family, his sons, their wives, they're all going to be fine."_

"_But they're… drowning everybody else?" Crowley raised his eyebrows in disbelief._

_Aziraphale nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line._

"_Not the kids, you can't kill kids." Crowley's mouth was wide with shock and anger._

"_Mmhmm." Aziraphale nodded again, his voice higher than normal._

"_That's more the kind of thing you'd expect my lot to do." Crowley said._

"_Yes, but, when it's done, the Almighty's going to put up a new thing, called a rain-bow. As a promise not to… drown everyone again." Aziraphale replied, seeming to try to come to terms with what God was doing._

"_How kind." Crowley stated, making it clear that he thought God was being cruel, not kind._

"_You can't judge the Almighty, Crawly. God's plans are –"_

"_Are you going to say 'ineffable?'" Crowley cut Aziraphale off mid-argument._

_Aziraphale paused. "Possibly." He muttered._

"_Oi, Shem! That unicorn's gonna make a run for it! Yeah – aw, it's too late. It's too late!" Crowley yelled, ignoring Aziraphale. "Well, you've still got one of them." He mumbled._

_Just then, there was a crack of thunder, and it started to rain heavily over the people who were gathered to watch the loading of the ark._

"Well, we better get out of here, angel. We might get ourselves inconveniently discorporated." Crowley sighed, turning to push through the crowd.

"And where, precisely, do you suggest we go, Crawly?" Aziraphale argued, trailing behind the demon.

"Well, the point of this whole thing is to kill all the people, yes? So, we just need to go where the people can't go, and we should be out of range of the Flood. I know of a tall mountain with a cave at the top, we can stay there to ride out the storm." Crowley replied, finally pushing through the back of the crowd and into the gathering darkness.

Aziraphale gave a halfhearted scoff. "Together?" he asked.

"Do you have one, single better idea, angel?" Crowley turned to stare at Aziraphale.

He sighed. "I suppose not."

So, the two of them made their way to the mountain, unfurling their wings and flying to the cave once they had it in sight. Aziraphale used a miracle to keep the rain off them when they were in the air.

They ended up settling near the mouth of the cave so they could watch the proceedings, Aziraphale conjuring them a fire some blankets when Crowley, being cold-blooded, started to shiver.

The rain lasted forty days, the water stayed for one hundred and ten more.

Every once in a while, when Crowley would see a body float past the mountain, he would give a rather violent flinch and look away.

Aziraphale, still very clear on the fact that he and Crowley were supposed to be enemies, usually would ignore the demon, focusing on a book that he had miracled for himself.

Both of them tried to sleep, but the horrors of what was happening would cause them to wake after only a few days, and they would give each other a knowing look and huddle a little closer together.

Aziraphale became increasingly aware of Crowley's flinches. Every time the demon would cringe and curl in on himself, Aziraphale became more and more concerned. By day seventy, these flinches were happening at least three times a day.

When Crowley gave an especially violent cringe, Aziraphale snapped his book shut and gave the demon an exasperated look.

"What is it, Crawly."

They hadn't talked much during the flood, each lost in their own thoughts, so Crowley gave a rather fierce start and gasped. "What?" he asked. He hadn't been paying attention.

"Why do you keep flinching? You have to be used to things like this in Hell." Aziraphale said with a sigh.

"As if you care, angel." Crowley snapped.

"I was just curious. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine with me." Aziraphale huffed, reopening his book.

After a few minutes, Crowley seemed to decide that he did want to talk about it, because he spoke up.

"This reminds me of my Fall." He muttered.

"What was that, dear?" Aziraphale cringed at his use of the pet name.

"I said, this reminds me of my Fall. It reminds me of tumbling into a pit of boiling sulfur." He paused. "You wouldn't understand, angel."

"So…" Aziraphale started to ask.

"So, every time I see a body float past us, I'm reminded of the day that I Fell from Heaven and turned into a demon. I'm reminded of all the souls that are tortured in Hell, and how humanity has officially Fallen." He snapped. "It's not pleasant."

"I can't imagine." Aziraphale muttered.

The pair lapsed back into a silence that lasted for the rest of the Flood. When it ended, and they descended from their cave, they barely uttered goodbye before they parted ways.

Neither were willing to bring up that conversation, or that time, again.

….

_London, Soho, A. Z. Fell and Co. Bookshop. One month after the (not) end of the world:_

Though neither would admit it, Crowley and Aziraphale, after the near-Apocalypse, needed to be in one another's presence.

Crowley had taken to spending more and more time in the bookshop, lounging in the shop or in the back while Aziraphale helped his customers.

Aziraphale closed his shop more often than usual, wanting to spend more time with his best friend rather than trying to stop people from buying his books.

They had taken to sitting in companionable silence, Aziraphale reading and Crowley thinking. Usually, Aziraphale would sit at one end of the couch in his flat above the shop and Crowley would stretch out across the rest of it, resting his head in the angel's lap.

At first, Aziraphale would stiffen at the contact, but now he would simply lift his book above Crowley's head and allow him to lay however he wanted.

That's how they were sitting today. Aziraphale had a novel open in his hands while Crowley laid on his lap, eyes closed behind his sunglasses.

However, unlike most days, the angel wasn't focusing on his book. He was thinking over all of his encounters with Crowley, and reminiscing on the one that stuck in his mind: the Flood.

He was debating whether to ask Crowley to elaborate on his Fall, and possibly what he remembered of being an angel. He wasn't sure if it was an appropriate conversation, though, even if they were best friends.

His decision was made for him, however, when Crowley started talking.

"I don't hear pages turning, Aziraphale. What's on your mind." He said, eyes still closed.

Aziraphale suddenly dropped his hands, and the book, into his lap, hitting Crowley in the temple with the corner of the novel.

"Ouch! Bloody Hell, Aziraphale, watch what you're doing." Crowley sat up quickly, rubbing his temple with his thumb.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, dear." Aziraphale pulled Crowley back into his lap, replacing the demon's thumb with his own. He rubbed soothing circles into the aching temple, contemplating how to word his inquiries.

Crowley hummed in pleasure at the massage.

"Crowley, dear, can I ask you something?" Aziraphale piped up, still rubbing the demon's temple. 

"Of course, Aziraphale. You never have to ask." Crowley answered.

"Well, I was just wondering… do you remember the Flood?" he asked quietly.

Crowley's eyes opened just enough to glare at the angel. "Do I remember the Flood? I'm not likely to forget something like that, angel."

"True…" Aziraphale trailed off. "I just wondered if, maybe, you wanted to, I don't know… talk about it?"

Crowley sat up from where he was lying, turning to face the angel.

"Talk about what, exactly?" he replied.

"Well, you said that it reminded you of your Fall… I don't know if, maybe, you want to talk about that? Or about when you were an angel? Sometimes it helps to talk about things that are hurting us, dear." Aziraphale answered.

"What makes you think that it's hurting me?" Crowley asked.

"Well, I know it was hurting you then, Crowley. And I don't think Falling is something that you get over very easily. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But… I'm always here, if you need me." Aziraphale responded sheepishly.

Crowley squinted at the angel, apparently trying to decide whether to believe him. Aziraphale was rather offended, at first, that Crowley was deciding whether he could be trusted. Then he remembered what he had asked.

Crowley, apparently making a decision, laid back down in Aziraphale's lap, letting the angel run his fingers through his flaming red hair.

"I didn't mean to Fall." Crowley stated.

Deciding that he was probably going to elaborate, Aziraphale stayed silent.

"I didn't rebel. I just hung around with the wrong people. I asked questions." Crowley paused. "I didn't question Her, I just… I wanted to know why the Plan was what it was. I'm sure you've wondered that yourself, from time to time, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale hummed in agreement.

"I didn't… I wasn't like the other Fallen, though I think you knew that already. I didn't want to be bad. But, well, I guess we see where that went."

"I did know that, dear. You've always had a goodness in you that other demons lack. Some angels even lack your kindness."

Crowley gave a halfhearted scoff.

"You know it's true, Crowley. I've always said so, you just never wanted to listen."

"Well, anyway… I really liked being an angel. The Fall was a big… well it was absolutely devastating, actually. I didn't think I belonged with the rebels. I still don't."

Aziraphale just kept running his hands through the red hair on his lap.

"I remember when I created stars, and nebulas, and galaxies." Crowley sighed sadly. "I was always rather awkward around you because I was jealous. I missed being an angel. Now… well, being a demon isn't all bad. But I still sometimes miss being good."

"You are good, dear." Aziraphale replied.

"You seem to be the only one that sees that, Aziraphale." Crowley muttered.

"I don't think so, Crowley." Aziraphale paused, lifting the demon's head off his lap so he could turn and look him in the eyes. He reached up and pulled the sunglasses off Crowley's face. "Demons aren't supposed to be able to love, dear. But when you thought I had died, when my bookshop was on fire and I was nowhere to be found, you screamed and cried and tried to drink your sorrows away. When you told me that you'd lost your best friend in that bar, your voice cracked." Aziraphale paused to stroke his thumb along Crowley's jaw. "Everyone who knows us knows that you love me, my dear. Apparently, I was the last person to catch onto that."

"Aziraphale…" Crowley muttered, his voice deep.

"I know you're good, Crowley. And I know you love me. And…" Aziraphale leaned forward so their noses were almost touching. "I love you too."

Aziraphale leaned forward and brushed their lips together, smiling at the small gasp that escaped the demon.

"Aziraphale…" Crowley muttered again, pulling back slightly so he could speak.

"You don't have to say it, dear."

"I want to, angel." Crowley paused, lifting a hand to Aziraphale's cheek and pressing their foreheads together.

"I love you…" he breathed.

"Oh, Crowley…" Aziraphale was cut off when Crowley kissed him again, bringing his hand up into white-blond curls.

"I love you, Aziraphale." Crowley whispered against the angel's lips.

Aziraphale smiled, glad he was finally able to kiss his beloved demon.


End file.
